Aunt Bella
by FFcrazy15
Summary: "And that was the other thing, the big one. When Neville had last been at his Gran's place he had found an old book of genealogy. It had revealed a big secret to him: Aunt Bella wasn't actually his aunt." In which Alice finally tells her son the truth, and Neville learns that one good choice can change everything. AU
1. Chapter 1: The Question

**Disclaimer: I neither own the rights to Harry Potter nor any of its associated media, derivatives or products. I do not profit from this work.**

 **A/N: Hello everyone! (Dodges flying tomatoes) Okay okay I'm sorry, I know I haven't updated in forever! And I'm not technically updating now because... (drum roll) this isn't my story at all!**

 **This is wonderful masterpiece here was actually created by my very good friend, Artie, who asked me to post it for all of your delight as he does not himself have an account. We sincerely hope you enjoy this wonderful piece, and please leave a review telling Artie your thoughts!**

 **Enough of my rambling; on with the story!**

-Part One: The Question-

Neville stared into his porridge glumly. The week had been so good until today; first his Hogwarts acceptance letter had come, to the relief of his grandparents in particular—not to say that he hadn't been excited as well, but his grandparents, long worried he might be a squib, had been overjoyed to a degree that was embarrassing to the normally quiet and introverted boy. But even with his somewhat withdrawn nature, even Neville had been enjoying the attention and praise. He was going to get to go to Hogwarts, that alone had been something to keep his spirits flying high all week. What was more, he'd been told that he was going to be going to Diagon Alley, that he'd finally be able to get his school supplies, his books and more than even that, his wand! He'd been over the moon about all of it. That was until of course his parents had told him that they'd be visiting Aunt Bella at St. Mungo's today before they went shopping.

Neville stirred the gray tan paste, the strawberries sinking into the quagmire. Normally he would have savored those, snapping them up one by one as he progressed with his breakfast, but today he simply watched them drown along with his good mood. Alice Longbottom peered over at her eleven-year-old son, looking somewhat worried at his surprisingly downcast mood. "Something wrong sweetie? I thought you liked porridge?" she said in a concerned tone as she moved over to the table, her white streaked brown hair put up in a bun this morning.

Neville shook his head "I'm ok mum." He knew from the look on her face that mum knew he was lying, but that she was going to wait until he told her why; she might prod him a bit if he took too long, but she'd wait.

"Why do we have to go see Aunt Bella?" he finally said, still holding the spoon in his hand despite having long since given up on the porridge.

"Well to show her your acceptance letter of course, she'll be thrilled to hear it and she'll want to congratulate you," Alice said, answering the immediate question, but not the actual concern.

"No I mean, but why do we have to go see her?" Neville said, clipping off the "at all" from the end of the sentence. There was a pause from his mother as Alice took a moment to compose a more in-depth answer.

"Because it would mean a lot to her if she heard the news, and it would mean even more to her if she heard it from you directly," his mother said, her words carefully chosen as she tiptoed up to the line of a topic that had long been danced around in the Longbottom household. All the same, though, her tone was firm; it was clear that the visit wasn't up for debate.

Neville returned to pouring his gloom into the porridge, even taking a bite if only for appearances. _Aunt Bella…._ Neville though glumly, Aunt Bella. It wasn't that Neville hated Aunt Bella, it was more that he found her terrifying. The terror was all the worse and mixed with guilt because she seemed to have a bottomless affection for her "nephew." The issue was that Aunt Bella's means of showing affection were, in a word, scary. Neville remembered when she'd insisted on reading him a story. She'd read him "Little Red Hood." He still had nightmares. And she always wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to pinch his cheeks and coo about what a big boy he was becoming. He had heard other kids his age complaining about similar things, moaning about "embarrassing relatives." But Neville was pretty sure they'd never been screamed at by their aunt for "not smiling enough" or then had to watch their aunt be restrained and sedated by an entire team of healers. She had apologized the next time, sure, but to Neville's mind he wasn't sure why there had been a next time at all.

And then there was the way she moved. Neville had once seen a fox in the garden hunting after some rabbits. He'd watched the fox stalk the birds and grinned that horrible predatory grin at the baby bunnies it had wanted to have for dinner. Neville had cheered when his father had rushed in and scared the fox off. Aunt Bella smiled the same way and she moved the same way, and yet Neville's dad insisted that he be nice to her and call her "Auntie" all the same.

And that was the other thing, the big one. When Neville had last been at his Gran's place he had found an old book of genealogy. Neville had always been a boy to devour any book he could get his hands on anyway, and in this case, it had revealed a big secret to him. Aunt Bella wasn't actually his aunt. He'd looked and looked, but among the various branches and limbs of his family tree, he hadn't seen a single mention of Aunt Bella anywhere near his own family. He had found her eventually on a different family tree though, the Blacks. He'd only recognized one other name there, Sirius Black, and Neville knew that he was a dangerous murderer who was locked up in Azkaban.

The discovery had chilled Neville to the bone, it felt like he'd stumbled onto some great conspiracy. Aunt Bellatrix wasn't his aunt, so why did his parents always insist he call her so? Why did they have to visit her every couple of months? All of these thoughts and more were boiling in his head until he finally spoke again.

"I just…maybe you can go see her and show her my letter." Neville brightened suddenly "And then Dad and I can go get my school supplies! It'll make the trip quicker right?" he added, feeling quite proud of how he'd make this all far more efficient. Alice Longbottom sighed.

"Your father had to stay late at work today sweetie, he won't have time, and it would make her very happy to hear it from you in particular." Her face seemed set, as though she'd finally decided something. Neville's face fell, he had been sure that would have worked.

"But we already saw her at Christmas mum…" Neville mumbled.

"Yes and you remember how happy she was when you gave her our present right?" Alice said as she forced cheer into her voice, trying to point out the positives, offering up the scripture of good manners.

"The healers say it was all she would talk about, how her thoughtful nephew had given her such a nice cardigan." Neville felt his face twisting into a worried look. He also remembered how she'd hugged him until it had hurt and how his mother and a healer on hand had had to gently but firmly pry her grip off of him.

"But she's not even my Aunt!" Neville heard someone say. He looked at his mom and her sudden wide eyed expression. Neville realized it had been him.

"Well…she's not…" he said, his tone retreating to a more apologetic ground. For a moment he could have sworn his mother was angry but if she had, or even if it had just been his imagination she didn't look angry now, she mostly just seemed sad. But Neville could tell it wasn't at him, it was at something else, something…bigger.

"Neville-" she started before pausing and sighing before settling down into the chair across from him.

"No…she's not your aunt." She said, Neville opened his mouth but Alice Longbottom held up a hand to stop him. He complied, giving his mother time to gather her words. He had so many questions, the conspiracy had finally been broached, he would finally have answers.

"Neville, do you remember when we moved into this house? Do you remember at all? You were about three years old?" Neville furrowed his brow, this hadn't been where he'd expected things to go. He nodded slowly.

"I…yes?" he said giving his mother curious look.

"Well, do you remember where you lived before that?"

"I lived with Gran and Granddad," he said simply, but then for the first time the strangeness of this statement his him: why _had_ he lived with his grandparents until he was three? He knew the reason that his Gran had always given him, that his parents were in the hospital sick but that they'd be better soon and be there to see him. Much of Neville's life had been dominated by visits to St. Mungo's. But those visits had always been happy, seeing mum and dad as they seemed to get better each time he saw them. And his Gran had been telling the truth, one day his mum and dad had gotten better and they'd left hospital. They'd moved to this house not long after.

…But why _had_ they been in hospital? And, now that Neville thought about it, the visits to Aunt Bella had started not long after. He remembered that Gran hadn't been too happy about them either.

Neville looked up at his mum and he saw her giving him a bit of a sad smile, she knew her son had started asking the right questions, she knew the day had finally come.

"Mum…why were you and Dad in hospital?" And Neville knew that for the first time in his life he wouldn't be told that it was because they had been "sick".

"Your father and I–" She stopped, seeming to once again be gathering her mental notes. She started at least one more time before finally settling on a direction for things.

"When you were a baby, things weren't…well they weren't very good," she started weakly but plowed on all the same. "You-Know-Who had only just been killed and things were getting better, but it was still very dangerous." Neville shivered, he'd been told about You-Know-Who by his Uncle Algie, his Gran had been very angry at uncle Algie for that, and Neville had had nightmares for a while after that until his father had explained things more carefully to him.

"But when You-Know-Who died things got better right? The war ended," Neville said almost a bit plaintively to which his mother gave him another sad smile.

"Well…yes, but as I said, his followers were still around, and some of them were…well they were just as bad as him." Neville shuddered again, the idea of other wizards just as bad as You-Know-Who was a frightening thought.

"And some of them wanted to find him, your father and I had…well we had helped fight You-Know-Who." Neville felt a flame of family pride inside him, he had heard this part a few times from his grandparents, but strangely, never from his parents themselves.

"So some of them decided–" Neville felt a sudden pit beginning to open in his stomach as he began to follow where this road lead. "–That your father and I might know where to find… _him_." Neville could see the pit below.

"You were just a baby, it was late at night and they broke in." There was an expression of terrible worry on his mother's face, he could see her hands shaking a little as she spoke, as she forced herself to speak.

"Your father…there were too many of them and they ambushed us, he tried to fight…I tried to hide you but they found us and they–" He heard his mother's voice croak as she forced herself to stop and take several deep breaths. Neville instinctively reached out a hand, placing his pudgy hand into his mother's, earning a weak but grateful smile. The smile didn't last, though, and the boy felt his heart sink: there was more.

"They did…terrible things to us…I-I honestly don't remember much of it." She let out a nervous laugh before gulping it down.

"But then…then they found you. I remember one of them saying so. I remember because they…stopped. Stopped as they pulled you out." Neville felt his eyes widening. He felt the ice forming in his heart, this was worse than any scary story he'd ever heard, even though he knew it ended okay…at least he hoped it did.

"I couldn't do anything, I was so weak but then…" Mum looked suddenly ashamed. Ashamed with herself.

"She changed sides." She said with a strange bewildered tone. Neville looked up

"Who did?"

"Bellatrix…she stopped, she just suddenly turned and…made her husband drop you, then she was dueling with them. I couldn't move and she just kept dueling them. But then they started winning, they started hurting her, punishing her. She kept screaming, they wouldn't stop, I wanted them to stop, to leave you alone, to leave us alone…to leave her alone." Neville's mum wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, Neville tightened his grip on her warm hand, he felt her return the grip.

"I don't…I don't remember how we did it, but we did, and when I woke up, you were living with your Grandmother and I was in St. Mungo's." Neville started, he knew there were holes in the story, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see them filled, he wasn't sure his mother could.

It took her a moment to calm herself, but she did and Neville saw with a sudden pang of guilt that she was going to continue; he felt terrible, he could see the pain it was causing her to continue.

"Mummy I–" But she waved a hand again, she looked determined now. She had to finish, she had to see it through.

"It took me a long time until I could…think clearly again." She smiled "Seeing you helped a lot, I would sometimes forget…everything, but then I'd see you and your smiling face, see your father and the important things would come back." She pulled Neville closer, he pulled his arms around his mum; he felt terrible, making her tell this story, felt even worse that it had come from such a selfish place, but a small part of him knew more was coming.

"And then one day I got to go home. I got to have the life I'd dreamed about while in the hospital bed, I got to live with my son again, to live with my husband again, in our own house." She squeezed Neville a bit tighter, her face taking on a genuinely joyful look for the first time in this story. But it darkened.

"I got to go home…but Bellatrix…your Aunt Bella couldn't. The Death Eaters–" Neville had never heard the term, but he could figure it out easily enough, "–had hurt her too much, they'd driven her insane, and the healers said she hadn't been very healthy to begin with." Alice Longbottom's face took on a pained look, her gaze shifting to Neville to somewhere far away.

"She finally did something good in her life and that's how they paid her for it." She seemed to return to Earth, but her gaze stayed off of Neville

"The healers said that we had been lucky, with what they had been doing, we might have ended up like her, or maybe even worse, that we might have never been able to even recognize you." She returned her gaze to her son, pulling him tighter into the hug, reassuring him that that would never happen.

"And she was all alone. No one wanted her, her old allies would have wanted her dead and people on our side wanted nothing to do with her after all she'd done…but they couldn't just throw her in Azkaban, not after what she'd done in the end, and with the state of her mind, she wouldn't have survived. In the end Dumbledore said that it would be best to just give her a quiet room at St. Mungo's where she couldn't hurt herself or others; he said it would be for the greater good. People grumbled about it, but in the end they let her have it…and that's where she had stayed. Alone."

There was another pause before she spoke again.

"So I reached out…it took a bit of work, but I got to meet her…and after some work I was able to do it…and after even more work they let you meet her."

Neville finally spoke up again. "But why do I have to meet her?" For once it wasn't a whine, but a genuine question, a curiosity of where he specifically fit into all this.

"Because she loves you." Neville stared and in response to that his mum shifted tact.

"Well…she does, in her own way, she changed sides because of you…she never did fully explain it, but all she would ever say when we met was how much she wanted to see you." Alice gave an apologetic look.

"Part of why we started calling her Aunt Bella was because for a while she was convinced that you were…well. that you were her son." Neville looked horrified at that prospect to which his mother quickly added:

"She stopped once she got used to the idea of being your aunt, and she would always talk about how happy she was to see you, how eager she was to see you again, it made her happier, it made her healthier, it gave her something to hold onto."

Alice looked down at Neville. For his part, Neville was deep in thought. "But…you said she had done really awful things…" he said, feeling his confusion deepening.

"Yes…but when the time came she made a new choice." She shook her head when Neville started to speak again. "I know…I know, she did a lot wrong, she committed many sins." Alice gave him a look that made it clear that this was something to be taken to heart "But in the end, when the moment came she made the right choice. If she hadn't, you might not have been able to grow up knowing us. For all her sins, she tried to change…And now she has suffered, suffered a lot. Who knows, she might have continued to make more choices like that if she had had the chance." Alice looked off wistfully again.

"That's the real tragedy I think…just when she had begun to change…they took the choice away from her."

Neville was silent for a long time, he clung to his mother and he felt the warm embrace of her arms wrapped around him. For the first time in his life he seriously considered what that meant, to have his mother embracing him, that she could, that she knew how to. What it meant to know that his mother and father, his grandparents, all of his family there for him. And for the first time in his life he considered what it would be to be truly alone. He pulled in closer to his mother. And for what felt like ages they held close to each other.

When they finally let go Neville didn't say anything, he didn't speak much at all as they prepared for the trip to the hospital and later to Diagon Alley.


	2. Chapter 2: St Mungo's

-Part Two: St. Mungo's-

Neville looked up at the Auror who stood out in front of "Aunt Bella's" room as he waved a probity probe over and around his mother and then himself. For the first time he realized how strange it was that they asked for his mother's wand before they could enter the room beyond. As time since the revelations of this morning had passed, the warm glow had started to fade and the other facts had begun to trot themselves out in front of Neville. Yes Au- yes, _Bellatrix_ had done something to save him and his family…but she had still done some truly terrible things. Neville looked at the blank white door. They had walked through the Janus Thickey ward to get to this door at the end of the hall. For the first time in his life he knew what was on the other side of that door, not his Aunt Bella, not even just a witch, but a dark witch, someone who had performed dark magic and had been a follower of You-Know-Who. He had felt better earlier, but now suddenly, "Aunt Bella," Bellatrix was more frightening than ever.

He saw the door opening to the ward and Neville felt a bolt of panic, he wasn't ready, he needed to collect himself, but already he was being led inside the all too familiar ward by his mother.

Inside was a well lit ward room, the window open and letting in a gentle summer breeze, the scene outside of it far nicer than the muggy London heat Neville had been in before entering the hospital. In one corner there was a large squishy black armchair with a low table and teapot upon it. Near the window there was a hospital bed with curtains around it, drawn half closed for now, obscuring the bed and its occupant. Beside the bed Neville knew there was a bedside table with an vase on it which bore an odd seal; Bellatrix had once told him gleefully how it was her family crest. Neville knew that it would soon be home to the bouquet of flowers his mother was holding.

And then there was the far wall. Neville felt a sudden rising shame growing inside. There were drawings. Drawings his parents had asked him to make, to give to "Aunt Bella." Some of them truly dreadful; he'd made them under duress as far as he was concerned, and yet here they were, each and every one carefully taped up onto the wall as a sort of chart of progress. Over on the dresser he could see a miniature forest of Christmas cards, accompanied by a small legion of photos of the Longbottom family: eight years of cards, each showing Neville getting a year older, waving and smiling shyly at the camera.

Neville heard the rattling tinkle of the hospital bed curtain being pulled aside, and he forced himself to look up at Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix beamed at him, her fox-like smile splitting her face. Neville saw with a pang of guilt that she was wearing the green cardigan they'd given her for Christmas—the same sweater he hadn't even wanted to be there to give her. She pulled back the covers on her bed, swinging her legs out over the edge and slipping her feet into the slippers that sat below it. She was upon him before he could even register it, pulling him into a tight and bony hug that threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. Neville saw his mother tap Bellatrix on the shoulder after a moment. The woman reluctantly loosened her grip, relinquishing the hug as she let her arms slither back, moving away from him until she was towering above him, her hands upon his shoulders, those sharp fingers digging into the same as she grinned hungrily down at him.

"My dear nephew," she cooed as she looked down at him and not for the first time Neville was reminded of the fox looking down upon those baby rabbits, and not for the first time Neville realized what part that placed him in. She was silent again before suddenly lunging in for another hug. This time Neville had been ready, this happened most times anyway and he was able to position himself in such a way that he wasn't too crushed this time around. Then came the kisses, dotting his head before she was finally done.

He could see her above him, her grinning face emerging from the shadows cast by waist-length sheets of black and white streaked hair, her eyes wide and staring, the fox looking down at the rabbit. She took his hand firmly in hers, dragging him to the edge of bed and only letting go when she arrived and swung her legs back into it, pulling the covers over her legs once more. She shifted a bit, adjusting her pillows to ensure she was propped up properly before turning back to Neville and his mother who had joined him at the bedside. She looked at Neville cheerily as she patted a spot on the bed next to her. After a meaningful look from his mother, Neville hopped up onto the bed and sat where she had indicated. He was glad that she hadn't asked him to sit in her lap this time.

"We brought you some flowers Bellatrix, I thought they'd brighten up the place," Alice Longbottom said in a kind voice as she held out the bouquet. They always brought flowers and Bellatrix always reacted the same way.  
She smiled that far too broad smile as she took the flowers in hand "They're lovely," she said before handing them back to Mrs. Longbottom. Then she turned her attention to the thing she was truly interested in, him. Meanwhile, Alice placed the fresh flowers in the vase, quietly dropping the long dead flowers from their last Christmas visit into the bin.

"Let me see you." she demanded, her smile never wavering. Neville scooted ever so slightly closer and her felt those cold bony hands snap out and clasp either side of his round face.  
"What a handsome boy! You're going to grow up to break hearts, mark my words!" she said with a giggle that always made Neville uncomfortable. All considered he was glad his mother was there for if things got too out of hand.

"And growing up so fast," she cooed, her voice taking on a babyish quality. "And what's more, you're eleven..." Her voice trailed off ominously as her smile took on a slightly manic glint.  
"An important year, when you find out if you've got any magic in you..." she said, and for the first time Neville could see worry in her face. He'd seen his Gran give a similar look before the letter had come.  
Neville fished in his pocket and produced the parchment envelope with the Hogwarts school crest upon it. He saw her worried face split into a grin that was if anything, broader than before. It looked like it belonged on a jack-o-lantern or at least something from Halloween.

"OH MY DEAR NEVILLE!" She shrieked as Neville felt himself pulled into another rib snapping hug. She shook him as she continued to bend his spine in half, laughing with a glee that drew the suspicious eye of the auror. Whether because she was done or because she too had noticed, she finally let go, bouncing with delight.  
"And of course you'll be in Slytherin! With good blood like yours you can hardly end up anywhere else!" She beamed down at him. "Slytherin was my house you know!" she said pointing above her bed where a somewhat ratty green and silver scarf hung, a silver serpent emblazoned upon it. She suddenly brightened even more.

"Oh! I have a picture!" she said with a delight Neville had long since come to find unsettling as she suddenly leaned over. As she groped for the bedside table, Neville's mum opened the drawer for her; her pale bony hands pat around inside the drawer before producing a thin frame. As she pulled the frame over to her, she pulled Neville in closer as well, finally pulling him onto her lap, his back resting upon her chest as she draped one arm around him, the other holding the frame. There were three girls, three sisters, each dressed in Slytherin robes.  
"That's my baby sister Narcissa," she said with pride as she pointed to the youngest, a little blonde girl about Neville's age in the picture. As she spoke, the childish tone she sometimes used began to slip in.  
"This was taken in her first year, we were all so happy! The three Black sisters all at school together," she said with another demented giggle. The little first year girl was smiling and waving up at Neville, her face a bit chubby, but it was clear that with age she'd end up with the same striking patrician features as her sisters.

"There's my little sister Andromeda, she's in her third year in this picture, doesn't she look so happy?" Bellatrix said, pulling Neville in tighter as the brown haired middle sister nodded in a friendly enough manner up at Neville, smiling all the same. Neville had met Andromeda for the first time at one of the visits to see "Aunt Bella." There had been a lot of shouting from the room before they'd been allowed in and the now-adult woman from the picture had stormed out in a high temper. That had led to the incident where Bellatrix had become angry at him for "not smiling enough." But Neville knew that he'd seen her a few other times when there had been considerably less shouting. In the picture she looked a bit embarrassed, as though she wasn't entirely keen on getting her photo taken with her sisters.  
"And there's me! There's your Auntie Bella, wave hello!" she said now using that painful baby voice in full force.

Neville felt like it was hard to compare the woman now holding him so closely and the fourteen-year-old girl in the photo. There was a resemblance for sure, the same high cheekbones and patrician features. But the girl in the photo looked haughty and her long black hair had healthy shimmer to it. She held herself like an empress, like someone who knew what the world was and that it revolved around her and her alone. The woman who sat on the bed with him on his lap felt as different as was possible to be.

The Bellatrix of now was skinny, painfully so, her high cheekbones slightly gaunt and would likely have been gaunter if not for the Healer's careful attention. Her hair, broad bands of white streaking the black, was limp almost dusty in color. And her smile was too broad, forced, nailed on as opposed to the cool easy smirk of many years past.

She looked down at the photo, still holding Neville tightly, seeming to be lost in the sea of ages for a moment.

"Neville?" Neville looked up to see his mother, another healer standing nearby; the boy recognized the man as the healer who was responsible for Bellatrix's care. "I need to speak with the head healer about your Aunt Bella's care for a moment; if you need me. call for me, okay?" she said, giving first the eleven-year-old a meaningful look before flicking her eyes briefly to Bellatrix, still lost in staring at the photo. Neville nodded and smiled to reassure his mum.

Giving him a smile in return, Alice Longbottom stepped away from the bed, moving towards the door where the healer had a clipboard and began to talk in quiet tones about various medical things.  
Bellatrix continued to stare at the photo. And Neville sat upon her lap, feeling uncomfortable. He felt her shift her weight suddenly as she finally looked up from the photo, glancing over to where Neville's mum and the Healer were talking quietly. She seemed to be listening for a moment before she suddenly licked her lips.  
She set down the picture briefly, sending the sisters scurrying as their photo was turned upside down. Neville watched as she raised a hand, her face screwing up with concentration as she cast a spell.  
"Muffliato..." she said, her voice sounding strained. Neville felt an odd pressure forming around him and Bellatrix. Over by the Healer and his mother, he saw his mum briefly scratch at her ear, then glance over to the bed where she saw her son and Bellatrix quietly looking at the photo still before turning back to the healer.

Bellatrix let out a breath Neville hadn't realized she had been holding. She had the photo in her hands again, but she wasn't really looking at it anymore, instead she seemed to be thinking, deeply.  
"I killed him you know..."  
Neville looked up at Bellatrix, she was still smiling, but it felt different now, sadder, more as though it were mainly there for show. She must have taken Neville's terrified stare as a question for more detail so she continued.

"My husband...Rodolphus." Her smile seemed to take on an increasingly melancholy tint but judging by how she said the name, the melancholy wasn't for the man.  
"He found you, he pulled you out of where Alice...your mum had hidden you." Neville could feel her grip tightening, but it wasn't the usual spine snapping squeeze her was used to, more as though she was reassuring herself that he was there. He had noticed the brief reminder she had made for herself, that Alice Longbottom was his mother and he was likewise reminded of the reason she was called Aunt Bella specifically. She was silent for a while longer before speaking again, gathering her thoughts once more.  
"Did I ever tell you about my daughter?" she whispered. Neville shook his head, he wasn't sure he liked this, this felt like what had happened with his mother this morning, only somehow far darker.  
"I didn't know I was pregnant until it was too late...I didn't know it could happen, it hadn't happened before." She was silent again as Neville stayed quiet. Part of him wanted to call out to his mother, but another part of him knew that he was safe, she wasn't going to hurt him.

"And then right when I learned I would be a mother...she was gone, within a week. She was too small...my body...didn't want her, couldn't carry something like her." Neville saw that the smile was gone now.

"I wasn't allowed to bring something good into the world, even my body knew that, it knew I'd get her killed." Her one armed grip pulled around him more fully. Neville could see that her eyes, usually filled with a strange unholy energy, had a sudden dark hooded look to them.

"No one knew it had happened, I didn't let anyone know, not even Rodolphus, not even... _him_." There was a bittersweet scratch to her voice when she had said the word him.

"I didn't let anyone know, I didn't even let myself worry about it, I just told myself that is was better this way, that a child would have dragged me down, prevented me from being a good servant. But then...but then _he_ was gone, we were trying to find him...we found your parents." She choked briefly and she seemed to grit her teeth, daring the moisture to escape her eyes, for now it obeyed.

"And then Rodolphus found you, he said he knew how to make your parents talk. I knew what he meant, and...and I agreed with him...I laughed." She wasn't laughing now. "But then I saw you, I saw your mother, how even through the pain...with all the screaming, she was trying to get to you...and I...I just..I had to stop him, stop the screaming, all of them...so I did." There was a brief flicker as the smile returned, a grim reflex. "The others didn't like that...not at all."

She was silent again, her grip loosening on Neville, but he stayed where he sat.

"I was going to call her Berenices, like the stars."

Silence reigned, Neville didn't dare break it as Aunt Bella slumped in her bed, holding him limply. For the first time in his life Neville say how weak Aunt Bella was, how broken. She wasn't a woman, she was a shade. A shadow of her old self. That old self had been a monster...but in the same way it is painful to see a grand old predator on its deathbed it was painful to look at her, there was a sense of lost nobility. Neville felt himself wondering what had happened to the fox after his father had chased it off: had it starved? Had it gone back to its den to sulk? Aunt Bella was a weak and delicate woman, kept here and kept safe by the mere kindness of a few people who could barely stand her. Neville thought back to the photo and wondered what her younger sisters thought of their once terrible eldest sitting as a weak wisp of a woman in a hospital bed. He could see that her tears didn't fear her, they defied her earlier attempts to contain them, rolling down her pale cheeks. She had been such a terror, a fiend, and now she couldn't even stop herself from crying or shaking as she did it.

Neville realized he'd never really thought about how a person ended up in a place like this, his parents or Aunt Bella for that matter. How did a person get so broken?

Neville shifted to face her. She was still staring down, blankly, the tears flowing freely, unheard by anyone but Neville, thanks to the charm she had cast. Neville wondered if she had done that out of some lingering pride, he wondered how it felt to be such a prideful person, stuck to a guarded room for most of the rest of your life, both feared and pitied all at once. With everyone knowing her terrible past, yet everyone knowing she was a bare fraction of what she'd once been. A starving fox, trapped in its den for the rest of its days.

He pulled his arms around her, embracing her tightly. She jumped at his sudden touch. She seemed unsure as to what to do, unsure what to do when receiving affection instead of giving it, but slowly those pale thin arms snaked around Neville as well pulling him back just as tightly. He could feel his aunt burying her face into his shoulder, using it to quietly wipe the tears that wouldn't stop.

"Neville, it's time to go sweetie."

The pressure had released, sounds from beyond the bed seemed to be flowing more freely again. It was Aunt Bella who broke the embrace and she grinned up at Alice Longbottom, the previous pain seemingly gone entirely except a red puffiness around her eyes.  
"So soon? You just got here," she said a bit plaintively.  
"Well Neville has to go to Diagon Alley to buy his school books doesn't he?" Alice said kindly, returning Aunt Bella's manic grin with a far softer smile. The woman in the bed relented.  
"Oh I don't want you to miss out on that! Can't have it!" She said as she surreptitiously rubbed her eyes again under the guise of scratching her cheek. She turned to Neville.

"You be good at Hogwarts, or else Filch will put you in the stocks, whip you too! That's what they did in my day!" she said as a familiar cruel curl entered the corner of her baleful grin. But for the first time Neville saw her eyes, and he could see the brief twinge of pain that followed the reflexive need to frighten.

"Well I'm sure he'll be good, won't you Neville?" his mum said, her own tone a bit exasperated at another attempt to scare her son. Neville nodded, not looking away from the sharp smile.

Alice had gotten her wand back and they were walking out through the Janus Thickey ward when Neville heard a scream and a the sounds of scuffling as the woman in the bed next to him began to try and crawl up the wall and away from something behind Neville. He suddenly heard someone call out, _"Stop!"_  
Neville turned slowly and saw the scene behind him, Healers and patients were frozen mid-task, watching the three people in the aisle behind him. The Auror who usually watched the door had his wand out, pointed straight ahead, the head healer for Aunt Bella likewise had his wand out, but merely at the ready, his face concerned rather than deadly focused as the Auror's was. They were both looking at Aunt Bella as she stood in the aisle, halfway between the Auror and the Longbottoms. She was still in her pajamas but only one of her slippers, she had clearly rushed down the hall and only been stopped when the Auror had yelled out.  
She was looking at Neville, staring at him, the green and silver scarf clutched tightly in her fist. Neville turned around and began to walk towards her, shrugging off the hand his mother tried to put upon his shoulder, only stopping when he reached Aunt Bella.  
"For when you get sorted..." she said, handing the tattered scarf to the boy. He accepted it.  
"And...and if you don't get into Slytherin you can just...just so you remember..." she stumbled over her words a bit, clearly uncomfortable with this sort of vulnerability.  
"I'll write Aunt Bella, I promise," he said, matching her pained gaze.

She turned quickly and began to walk back towards the ward, her hands clasped behind her head. The Healer gently but firmly took her arm, returning to the ward, the Auror lowering his wand finally, following the other two back to the ward.

* * *

"I'm just saying, we're in Gryffindor," Ron muttered.

The new first-years were getting ready for some much-needed shuteye; between the train ride and the Sorting, it had been a long day for everyone. Ron, however, still apparently had enough energy to bicker good-naturedly with the others as he pulled on his maroon checked pajamas.

"It's mad enough that Dean has his muggle poster up, why do we need a Slytherin scarf?" Ron turned to Dean as he began to defend his favorite football team against Ron's increasingly exasperated attacks, which ended with a master stroke of "They don't even fly!" Neville could see that Harry was giving the scarf that Neville had hung up next to his bed a wary look. But he soon seemed more interested in Ron and Dean's increasingly friendly ribbing about muggle vs. wizard sport.

"Why do you have that scarf anyway? I thought you said your family was all Gryffindor?" Harry said, briefly turning from the debate and looking over at Neville.  
"Oh they are, but my Aunt Bella was in Slytherin, she wanted me to have it. I think she was hoping it'd help my chances of getting into her house; she'll be a bit disappointed it didn't work," Neville said in a friendly voice  
"I think she'll get over it though, She's mostly just happy I got into Hogwarts," he added quickly, to which Harry nodded, understanding this enough to let the topic go for now and go back to watching the increasingly lively and friendly discussion which Seamus Finnigan had joined in on as well. Neville lay back on his four poster bed, up at the scarf, the sole flash of green and silver in a sea of red and gold.  
He smiled at it, up at a single crucial choice that had let a boy grow up with parents.

* * *

 **A/N: So like I said, this story was not written by me, but actually by my good friend Artie, so any review you guys leave I'll pass along to him. :) Merry Christmas, and Pax et Bonum!**


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